


Captaintinymite's Tumblr Ficlets

by captaintinymite (augopher)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clumsy Derek Hale, Crack, Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, Every chapter is standalone fic, Fluff, Harry Potter References, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Skating, M/M, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale, Sunburn, silly nicknames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/captaintinymite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of my ficlets originally posted on Tumblr. </p>
<p>Each chapter is a standalone fic, and tags will be added as necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Werewolf Pain Mojo

Derek flopped down on the beach blanket. “You look like a lobster.”

“Feel like one.” Stiles grumbled from where he lay, face down on the blanket.

“Shouldn’t you get out of the sun then?”

Stiles groaned. “Hurts too much to move. Go save yourself; just leave me here to die.”

Derek trailed his fingers, still cool from the surf, down the crimson skin of Stiles’ back. “Where’s the fun in that? I couldn’t tease you about forgetting sunscreen then.”

“Mocking my pain? I am insulted, Derek.”Stiles lifted his shoulders off the blanket, craning his neck to peer over his shoulder. He hissed in pain.

Derek leaned over to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Shh. Relax.” He mumbled against Stiles’ skin, drawing the barest hint of pain away, just enough for Stiles to lie back down. Then, he left a trail of kisses over Stiles’ back, each one lasting a little longer than the one before it, taking with it more pain, until Stiles turned to putty beneath him, practically mewling.

Stiles’ back was not the only place burned; Derek noticed his ears also saw too much sun today and turned the focus there next.

“You have a magical mouth, Derek.” Stiles’ voice sounded wrecked, but also delirious when Derek took the newly pain free skin between his teeth to nip at Stiles’ earlobe. “Oh God, you have a magical mouth!”

Derek couldn’t say if Stiles realized he was taking his pain yet, or just incredibly turned on. “Anywhere else burnt?”

“Aww, gonna kiss my booboos, make them feel better?”

“Something like that.” Derek said, his breath ghosting over Stiles’ skin, eliciting a shiver from him.

“Think my nose and cheeks are burned, but…rolling over is a bad idea. I’d be indecent if I did.” Derek shoved lightly on Stiles’ arm until he rolled onto his side. He squeaked like a mouse when Derek pulled him flush against his body .

“There. Mischief managed.” He ignored the rosy skin of Stiles’ face, going for the kill instead. He’d rather pull pain away through his boyfriend’s lips than cheek any day.

“Geek.” Stiles said against Derek’s mouth.

“Shut up; you love it.” He traced his tongue along Stiles’ lower lip, until Stiles sucked in a shaky breath, mouth parting. Part of him should be mortified they were making out on the beach in broad daylight for everyone to see, and it took everything in him not to grind against Stiles’ body; he didn’t care.  

From somewhere nearby, he heard Isaac tell them to get a room. That earned the guy a one finger salute from Stiles, who opened his eyes to see black lines of pain rolling into Derek’s skin. He broke the kiss. “And to think all this time, you’ve performed werewolf pain mojo with your hands. Feel like I missed out on something.”

“Didn’t you know? Werewolf healing powers have flesh memories.”

“Such a geek.”

“Yeah, but I’m your geek.”

Stiles smiled. “Yes, you are.”

 


	2. Dogs Lick to Show Ownership

A couple days before Spring break ended in most of the pack’s Junior year of college, they sat in Derek’s loft; soft sounds of music playing from the stereo carried throughout the room. Well, to be frank, lounged would be a more appropriate word. True to form, Derek occupied on end of the couch up against one of the arms. Isaac sprawled out next to him, taking up the remaining two cushions, his legs bent over the other arm as he tossed a tennis ball into the air. **  
**

Bottles of nail polish in hand as they painted their toenails, Lydia and Kira sat on the loveseat they’d claimed back in Winter break of Freshman year, the one no one had thought to challenge them for since. Over in the corner, Liam and Mason had commandeered an end table and were using it, heavily entrenched in a game of War (an epic one that so far had lasted two hours with no sign of ending any time soon).

Scott, with his nose buried in his textbook for his Companion Animal Behavior class, completely oblivious to what was going on around him, sat on the floor. Stretched out beside him, Stiles, who was decidedly not going to do any unnecessary homework over break (by his own admission), happily tapped and swiped away on his IPad. Every so often little noises of simulated explosions signalled his progress in the game.

In fact, only Scott seemed to be interested in homework at all. Not even Derek, who, after two years of constant nagging from the pack, had finally gone back to college to finish the degree he’d abandoned when Laura died.

“Having fun over there, Scott?” Isaac put a lot of force behind his latest toss of the ball, sending it close to the vaulted ceiling above him. “It’s called Spring Break for a reason.”

“I’m sorry. Just trying to get ahead in my reading.”

Isaac caught the ball with ease, casting a glance in Scott’s direction. “You know, speaking of animal behavior…did you know that when a dog licks you, it’s declaring ownership.”

Scott scowled at him. “Not true. Animal behaviorists have several ideas on what it means, and ownership is not one of them.”

“It is. It totally is. You just haven’t got that far in your book yet. They’re saying ‘Mine’ when they do that.”

Eyebrows perking up in interest, Stiles gave a subtle tap to his screen, pausing his game. With a quiet calm, rose to his feet and stretched. “I’m gonna order pizza. Anyone else want one?” He looked among the pack whose faces showed assent in his decision. “Excellent.” He ambled towards the kitchen where he’d left his phone and stopped right next to the couch, leaning over and to lick Derek’s cheek. Then, he continued his trek to the kitchen.

“Stiles, what the hell was that?” Derek sounded genuinely confused, the inflection of his voice squeaking a little at the end of the question.

Stiles returned, phone in hand, and took a look at him. “Woof!” He pulled up the number for the local pizza place and turned to the the group, completely ignoring the bright red blush spreading across Derek’s cheeks. No further explanation given, he plopped back down on the blanket spread out on the floor, casting a smirk in Derek’s direction, before asking, “So, who wants pepperoni?”

 


	3. Breakfast for Lemondrop

The smell of bacon roused Derek from a deep sleep. The fight with that feral omega last night had been brutal. None of the wolves escaped without some kind of injury. Unfortunately for him, that injury just happened to come from the accidental swipe of Scott’s claws.  Derek’s eyelids fluttered open, and he winced when he tried to sit up. 

He glanced down at his chest where just the night before there had been a deep gash, one that bled profusely. Someone had covered the wound with gauze, and the medical tape pulled on his chest hair every time he moved. His head foggy, he tried to remember how he got home, and he  _was_  home. He was lucid enough to recognize his surroundings, but he must have been pretty out of it if he didn’t hear someone in his kitchen cooking.

With a groan, he managed to sit up. He still felt woozy, presumably from the blood loss, and decided standing up was not in the cards for him at the moment. Instead, he decided to enjoy the warmth of his blankets. 

He must have dozed off again, because he was awoken a while later when he heard someone coming up the stairs. Moments later, Stiles walked in, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. There was a smudge of blood on his right cheek, but no wound. Derek wondered briefly whose blood that was. In his hands, he carried a breakfast tray.  

When Stiles saw that he was awake, his eyes lit up like a sunrise. “Oh thank god. You’re awake.” He set the tray down on the end of the bed, and Derek tried hard not to chuckle at the wise words of C3PO painted upon it telling him to ’ _eat a healthy breakfast_ ’. “You almost bled out in my Jeep,” he sighed. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but I am sending you the detailing bill when I get it cleaned.”

“What’s all this?” Derek asked making a feeble gesture to the spread. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit salad, yogurt…coffee with whipped cream and caramel? Be still his beating heart.

“Well my dear lemondrop, you had a rough night.”

Derek rose an eyebrow at him. “Lemondrop?”

“Trying something new. You never did like being called a sourwolf. So I went with lemons, cause, you know, they’re sour. Too much?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Why?”

“You had a rough night. Weren’t you listening to me? Oh god, did your hearing get damaged when Scott roared right next to your ear? Sort of like a werewolf version of combat deafness.”

“No. I can hear just fine.” He tried to bat away Stiles’ hand when he tried to feed him a spoonful of yogurt. “I can feed myself just fine.”

“Nope. You are not going to exert yourself. Just lie there and relax. Let me do all the work,” Stiles smiled at him as he handed Derek the steaming cup of coffee. “Just the way you like it, enough sugar to put anyone, even _werewolves,_  into hyperglycemic shock.”

He took the proffered mug and brought it to his lips. It smelled like the good stuff, a premium bean coffee, not the cheap shit in his cabinet. “Thanks.”

The way Stiles smiled and looked at him in earnest when he said, “Anytime,” made his heart do something weird in his chest. Maybe it was the blood loss, but as he watched him plate up a stack of banana chocolate chip pancakes, giving them a healthy serving of syrup, he couldn’t help but admire the careful determination to not spill a drop. “Aren’t you going to have any?” Derek asked when Stiles placed the tray onto his lap.

“I… uh… this is for you.. You need to get your strength back.”

Derek pushed his fork towards Stiles and patted the space next to him on the bed. “Join me?” The healing skin of his chest pulled as he stretched out to reach the remote from the far bedside table. He pulled up his DVR recordings and selected an episode of The Simpsons. “What do you say to some Saturday morning cartoons while we enjoy this fine breakfast?”

Stiles looked at him with something akin to awe and slipped off his shoes to sit beside him. This totally made having his chest split open worth it.


	4. Z's In the Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * this is my first time at the ice rink and I’ve fallen on my butt at least 34 times so far but you keep skating around me like a fuckin pro au 
> 
> from [this](http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/105738168426/holiday-aus-for-the-christmas-spirit) list

Stiles passed him for what felt like the fiftieth time that day.

Ever since he’d opened the new pair of skates on his birthday, he’d been itching to get down to the rink and try them out, maybe convince his dad to take a personal day and join him. Here they were, three weeks before Christmas, father and son, skating like old times. Well, if old times meant his dad was holed up near the hot chocolate stand chatting up one of his fellow deputies who’d brought his kids down to skate. Whatever, so long as they were still going for hot wings and a beer afterwards, Stiles was fine.

His first pair of skates had been cursed with that infernal toe pick. What a disaster that had been! Where was he going with this? Oh yeah, the guy on the ice.

Stiles had to admit when he first saw the specimen of male beauty, he was sure the guy had to be a pro at the whole skating thing. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Look, Stiles was decent, didn’t fall more than once an open skating session, but this man made Stiles look like Bobby Orr.

So, when Stiles watched him hit the deck yet again, falling on his ass, he had to help. He skated over to where the guy lay sprawled on his back and extended a hand to help him up. However, the man seemed loath to want or accept his help, and batted his hand away.

“I got it. I got it,” he grumbled, pushing himself to his knees and crawled over to the boards to pull himself back to his feet.

Stiles covered his mouth to hide his smirk as the clumsy Adonis continued to inch himself around the rink. He brushed off his bruised ego–what? he was just trying to help the guy not make a fool of himself–and took a few more laps. When he watched the guy go down once more, he decided he would not take no for an answer and skated up beside him, this time, offering no assistance.

“What.do.you.want?” he gritted through his teeth.

Stiles waited for him to get his skates back under him before speaking. “Z’s in your knees.”

“What?” The man stared at him, one impressive eyebrow cocked in confusion.. And holy God, what color eyes were those?  _Snap out of it, Stilinski._

Stiles took a couple strides so that he stood in front of him and turned sideways. “You gotta bend your knees. You’re trying to skate upright and you look a bit like Frankenstein’s monster. When you bend your knees–see how my legs look like z’s now–it puts your knees over your toes. It moves your center of gravity and will allow you to make an efficient stride.” He waited for the guy to follow his advice before offering additional help. “Then, you need to make sure you push outward and  _then_ back.”

Too much, too soon, Impressive Eyebrow man began to stumble once more, but Stiles reached out to catch him. “Sorry. We can go slow.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because you are way too pretty to keep falling on your ass.” Stiles only realized what he’d said when it was too late to take it back and dropped his head in embarrassment. He looked up to see the man blushing, a healthy red hues spreading across his cheeks. “Sorry, sometimes I just open my mouth and things come tumbling out. I can keep helping you if you want. Or I can skate away, and we will never speak of this again.”

“Um…” The guy looked around as a couple skated past them. 

Stiles followed his gaze. One of the pair was skating backwards, pulling the other by the hands. “What?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I’d like that, but I don’t think I’m ready to try moving by myself. Do you think you could…you know…do that?” He pointed after the skating couple.

“Pull you? Sure. You’d have to hold my hands.”

The guy smirked. “I think I can manage.”

Stiles extended a hand. “First things first. I think introductions are in order. I’m Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“Well, Derek–you look like a Derek. It suits you–anyway, you ready?” When Derek nodded, Stiles took both of his hands and began to skate backwards.

They managed a few laps, albeit slow as molasses laps, but progress. Derek, as Stiles learned, was trying to teach himself to skate so he wouldn’t look like an idiot when his little sister brought her new hockey player boyfriend home for Christmas. As the only one of his family who apparently had never been ice skating, he was hoping he’d manage to gain some semblance of skill so that when Cora inevitably convinced the family to go skating, he’d at least have a little fun.

Stiles even detected a hint of a satisfied smile as Derek began to get the hang of it

However, on the fourth lap, he caught an edge and went down, pulling Derek down on top of him, which would be hot as hell if a) his tailbone didn’t hurt and b) they weren’t in a public ice rink. He figured he only had seconds though until his traitorous dick decided to take matters into its own …er hands. “Hey, now. Normally before I get horizontal with someone, they need to at least buy me dinner first. Take me on a couple dates,” he hoped his joke would chase away the awkwardness that naturally came from being underneath a hot stranger. Stiles was a pro at awkward situations. Humor was usually the key to diffusion.

Derek pushed up off him and grinned. “Okay. How does Friday at seven sound?”

See? Exactly like tha- Wait. What? He gaped at him, seeing the hopeful expression on Derek’s face. “Um…I…Friday…”  _Answer him!_  “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://captaintinymite.tumblr.com)


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